Behind Closed Doors
by GraveyardIntern
Summary: Continuation of Weeping Willows?


A frightful silence hung in the air of Gil Grissom's office which was not affected at all by the oncoming of light outside. The office was overwhelmed by a darkness which was much like the nights which were pierced with cries for help of many of the victims that he had tried to speak for, and mostly succeeded. However, all sense of professionalism was now out the back door.

"What did you just say?"

"Why do you go out with scumbags like him? You could have gotten killed, Catherine! You could have been the girl on the slab!" Gil Grissom was standing up, one hand on the desk to steady himself and to emphasize key words with a poke on the desk, and the other left hanging. Catherine stared at him in scorned disbelief.

"Is that what this was all about? Because I went out with Adam Novak?"

"Don't you realize that that…"

"How was I supposed to know he would be a murder suspect, Gil? In our case?"

"You know as well as I do that the one thing we learn on this job is that anyone's capable of anything!" Grissom argued as he crossed his arms.

"So you're saying I shouldn't meet anyone because they all might be murder suspects. That I should run a background check on them before I ask them what their sign is?" Catherine shot back, knowing this conversation was leading to a climax of nothing.

"That's not the point!" He shouted.

"What _is_ your point, Grissom? That I'm a slut? That I…" Gil's head snapped up and his whole form froze.

"I never called you a slut!" He shouted, the shock clearly expressed on his usually placid complexion.

"Then what the hell is your point?!"

Gil walked across the room at the speed of sound and Catherine took two steps back involuntarily.

"My point? You're my best friend, Cath. You know better than anyone how much you mean to me, and don't you think you'd be mad if someone you cared about put their lives at risk?" Gil shot back with anger in his eyes, his voice a volume lower.

"I'm not putting my life at risk! I'm socializing, not doing drugs, Gil!" She managed to shout back after being overwhelmed.

"Then why do you think _I_ don't go out?" He asked, planting a firm finger on his chest.

"This has nothing to do with you! Why are you so pissed with me for no apparent reason?" She cried out, exasperated.

"Because I'm mad at myself!" He shouted, making both of them pause. "I'm mad because I wasn't there for you. I wasn't there enough for you to ever consider talking to me as socializing." His voice was now almost down to a whisper and it was filled with guilt-filled regret. They were both breathing erratically, and another silence made itself heard. He had her up against his far wall and she was leaning on it now. He punched the wall suddenly, frightening Catherine. "God damn it!"

"How was I ever supposed to know I meant so much to you?" Catherine asked after he walked back behind his desk. "You were behind closed doors, Grissom. You expect me to try to open a bit more than I already have? I found it jammed, Gil." She added and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Gil bemused.

The rain that started at the end of her shift paralleled their fight in terms of rarity. Their fights had happened occasionally but Catherine felt that this one hit too close to home, that this one may go on for a while. She plopped down onto the bench and shut her locker with her foot, sighing as the metal door closed with a crash. She brushed her hair away from her face and ruffled it.

"Why the long face?" A familiar tenor voice crept into the room, bouncing off the metal lockers. Warrick took the place next to her. "Spill, dear supervisor."

"Is it wrong to want to socialize?" Catherine asked, not just Warrick but the whole world, looking at the ceiling.

"I certainly hope not. Otherwise I know where I'm headed in my afterlife." He replied, frowning and making Catherine chuckle.

"There's so much in my life, and socializing was supposed to be a luxury for someone like me, not a habit which I've allowed it to become." She added, sighing. Warrick pursed his lips, realizing this was more serious than he thought at first glance.

"Hey why don't we get that drink you asked about, and get you cheered up some?" He suggested, and although Catherine felt that she should go home earlier than usual, she agreed.

"So he called you a slut?"

"Now, he didn't. But he called the guys scumbags." She replied, slurring as she felt the drink get to her head slowly with a fizz.

"That's no way to talk to you, even if he meant no harm." Warrick told her, frowning again. "I mean, he's supposed to be the one doing this right now. He's supposed to be the one who understands you."

"Picture that. But you know what the saddest part is? He's right." She replied, smiling bitterly.

"Cath…"

"Every single man I've gone out with was mostly…scumbags. Come on, War. Even you can't deny it." She added. Warrick remained silent and finished his drink. "Warrick. I never want you to repeat my mistakes. Never act on pure impulse." The last statement stung him.

"You weren't being unreasonable. None of this is your fault." He told her as she hung her head. When she raised her head again, there were tears in her eyes.

"I've been telling myself that and look where I am. The same place once more. I just have to realize that part of this is my fault." She replied and without an effort she let a single tear fall. "And I think it cost me a friend."

"Gris is just looking out for you." Warrick told her, only believing half of it, and wanting to believe it at the same time. "He's not mad at you."

"I hope not. He must think I'm so pathetic. I don't know how I'm ever going to face him again." Catherine gulped down her fifth drink. She sighed and looked into Warrick's eyes. "Thanks. I needed that."

"You're not driving yourself. I'll drive you." He said, rising from the seat.

"Would you? I'll owe you one." She said as she got up and she started to look for her wallet.

"Nuh uh. I got this one." He told her, stopping her movements.

"Warrick! I brought you out here and you listened to me rant! It's on me."

"Look. Just buy me drinks next time with Nick along too. I'll get this one." He fished out his wallet and left the money.

"If you insist. But…"

"I do. Let's take you home." He cut her off and led her out of the bar.

Warrick was not a reckless driver and he was even more careful due to the bucketfuls of rain pouring down on Vegas that night. Catherine was asleep in the passenger seat and whenever they stopped at a light, Warrick took the time to look at how the lights splayed over her creamy white complexion. He woke her up when they were on her street, and as he drove up to her house, he saw that there was a black Mercedes in the driveway.

"Catherine? You've got company."

"What? At this ungodly hour? Would you turn on the headlights?" Catherine squinted to see through the night and the rain and when Warrick brightened the lights, she gasped.

"Who is it, Cath?"

"It's…that's Grissom's car." She replied, almost breathless. She was about to open the door.

"Wait. Let me get an umbrella." Warrick darted out before she could protest and he grabbed a large umbrella from the trunk and ran to her side to let her out. Just then, the door of the Mercedes opened and out came a tired Gil Grissom.

"Gris?"

"Warrick? Catherine?"

"What are you doing here, man?" Warrick asked before Catherine could utter a word.

"I was waiting for Catherine. I…I need to talk to you, Cath." Gil didn't seem to notice that he was getting drenched. "I didn't want to wake up Lindsey and your mother."

"You're getting soaked, Grissom. Get yourself some cover at the door." Catherine told him and turned to Warrick. "Thanks for everything."

"Hey, my pleasure. Good luck with him." Warrick told her patting her arm. She gave him a kiss on his cheek. He watched her run to her door and a soaked Gil Grissom, whom Warrick made eye contact with. They held gazes for a long time, and Warrick was vaguely aware of why Grissom was there and he threw the soaked man a fleeting smile, as he couldn't help a hint of jealousy come over him. He got into his car, not wanting to seem like he had anything to regret, and drove away.

"What are you doing here, Gil?" Catherine asked as she quietly put her things on the kitchen counter.

"I…I wanted to apologize." Gil stammered and she sighed.

"You're dripping."

"What?"

"Water, you're dripping on my floor." She told him, as she brushed her hair from her forehead.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He said, and he stepped out the door, jumping under the rain again. "Look, let me just say a few things…"

"Gil! Come back in! I didn't mean you should go back out!" She yelled as she dragged him back in. She took off his soaked jacket slowly and hug it on a chair. She knew the water was soaked to his shirt and his pants, but she made no effort to go for a towel.

"Catherine, just listen to me. I won't be long. I don't want to interrupt your routines." He told her. She kept pacing the floors as he talked so he grabbed her shoulders. "I just want to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what, Gil?" She asked, bitter.

"For going off at you. I had no right to say anything to you. It was me that should have been on the receiving end of my unnecessary harsh words. I'm sorry." He told her, seriously repenting.

"No, you were right. It is my fault that I go out with scumbags. Eddie, Chris, Adam. They're all the same." She replied, getting out from his hold.

"No. They…I just called them that because…"

"Because they are! In your perfect, flawless point of view. Me? I was biased. They were wiling and that was enough for me." She cut him off as she took her own jacket off, revealing a sleeveless white blouse. She untied her hair and sighed.

"Because they were…they didn't deserve you." He replied, quietly.

"Deserve me? Ha. Me. A single mother in her mid-forties with a life-consuming job?" She scoffed. "I shouldn't have been worth their trouble."

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Catherine!" He raised his voice.

"About myself like what? That's what I am, Gil and even you can't say I'm not!" Catherine shot back.

"What?"

"I've seen the way you looked at me. The way the whole damn lab looked at me. The look itself said 'I disapprove'. _I _was the weakest link of your otherwise flawless team; _I_ was dirtying the name of the Vegas Crime Lab, and no one could stand that. They never stopped once to hear the whole story." She told him, stepping closer to him.

"Cath…" His voice softened, and Catherine knew he was trying to say something to contradict her.

"Don't 'Cath' me! Why do you always try to make it seem like I'm just a child who's ranting on about her non-existent nightmare? To you I'm still the coke-addicted stripper whom you reluctantly took under your wing and gave a job to, aren't I?"

"You're drunk." He uttered, in a state of shock.

"I'm drunk?! So now you're putting it on me again. So typical of you and the whole damn world. I'm the ugly duck. It's always whether I'm crazy, high, or drunk if I say something."

"Stop it!" He shouted. "That's not what I mean!"

"Would I ever get to know what you do mean by these unnecessary conversations we've been having?"

"You want to know the truth?"

"The truth? Ha. For once? Yeah I'd like that."

"Fine. I was mad at you. Mad at you for even thinking that Adam Novak actually…actually was after you because he fell in love with you at first sight." She tried to interrupt after rolling her eyes, but he hushed her with a finger on her lips. "But that was only for a split second. The anger turned onto myself. I was mad because…because…I would never be worth your consideration." He told her, his whole form sagging. His hand fell to his side in defeat. "For all I worked for, I wondered why I couldn't be someone like Novak. What made him so special?" He mused, and Catherine was left speechless by Gil's bitter smile. "Why couldn't I ever be looked at the way you looked at him? Thinking these thoughts, I…I vented it out at you. I'm sorry, Catherine. I had no right to blame you for my shortcomings." He hung his head briefly and looked at the ceiling with a chuckle. But Catherine saw his lips quiver and saw tears in his eyes. "You know what else I'm sorry about? Being behind closed doors. But I can't open them Catherine, because even I don't know what's behind them sometimes and I'm afraid it might betray what I've worked for, what I've built up to this point, what I've made myself become." He didn't look at her but at the ceiling. She could only stare in shock. "It's getting late. I should let you go to bed. You have work soon." He furiously wiped at his eyes, and looked at her with a boyish smile, pretending as if everything was all right, and for a moment Catherine almost believed it.

"Good night, Catherine." He turned to get his jacket.

"Wait a minute." She called out. "You're leaving before I accept or refuse your apologies?" He turned and looked at her with confusion. "I don't accept them."

"What?"

"I can't accept them Gil." She replied, clenching her teeth. "Because you've apologized for the wrong things."

"What?" He asked, turned towards her.

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this? Tell me that you felt this way?" She asked.

"Because you were threatening to take a peek, and I was afraid. If I told you, I'd be opening it, and I…I felt vulnerable." He replied.

"So you're opening it now?"

"I'm trying to open it one last time before I lock it and throw the keys away." He replied, his face void of a smile.

"Let me in." She said, after a long silence. He frowned. "I quit. I quit trying to seek approval from men like Novak. Fishing for a sneaky glance, for a compliment. I had always thought you disapproved and the truth was, I _couldn't_ consider you although I've wanted to. You have no idea."

"I never disapproved of you. Not for a minute." He told her, shaking his head.

"So I'm done. I've found it right under my nose. I've found my approval where I least expected it. Irony, huh?" She replied, looking at him, and seeing his watery eyes. "Just let me in to have a look. Then if you want me out, you can lock it then. But just…let's give it a try."

"So you're giving me a chance?" He asked, unbelieving.

"A chance? You could call it a chance. I've always wanted to. I just never thought you…you had feelings for me."

"I don't want us to be based on pity, Catherine. If you…"

"I do." She replied, a tear slipping from her eye as she grinned. "Of course I do, Gil. You're my best friend. And I've…I've always felt something…"

"…was amiss?" He finished. Their eyes locked, blue on blue, two clairvoyant pools reflecting their thoughts.

They stood there, in her living room, oblivious of the sky falling down on the. For all they cared, hell could unleash itself, time could stop, the time for judgment could arrive; their world consisted of him, her and the gap between them that would be filled in the blink of an eye.


End file.
